Divorced the CEO, Chose His Rival

Chapter 003 — The Office That Was Hers

The receptionist who had greeted Nadia Whitlock almost every morning for six years looked embarrassed when she asked for identification.

Nadia smiled and reached into her handbag.

"It's all right, Denise. I'm a visitor now."

"I know, Mrs. Whitlock. I mean, Ms. Ellery." Denise glanced at the monitor, visibly flustered. "I'm sorry. I'm still getting used to it."

"So am I, sometimes."

It was nine fifty-two on Wednesday morning, and the lobby of Whitlock Industries looked exactly as it had when Nadia last walked through it. The polished floors reflected the overhead lights, the security desk occupied its familiar corner, and employees hurried toward the elevators carrying coffee and conversations they had no intention of finishing before work.

For seven years, Nadia had crossed this lobby without anyone asking where she was going.

Today, Denise printed a visitor badge and handed her a clipboard.

"Claire is coming down to meet you."

"Thank you."

As Nadia signed the visitor register, a familiar voice called from behind her.

"Ms. Ellery?"

She turned to find Ben Carter, a young analyst she'd worked with during Whitlock's restructuring, standing beside the security desk.

"Ben. How's your mother?"

His face brightened.

"Much better, thank you. She's back to complaining that nobody makes proper tea in her house."

"That's a good sign."

"Definitely." He hesitated, glancing at her badge. "We heard you were leaving, but I didn't know you'd already finished."

"My last working day was some time ago. I'm only collecting a few things."

Ben shifted his laptop bag to his other shoulder.

"I wanted to thank you. For everything you taught me."

Nadia felt an unexpected warmth.

"You did the work, Ben. I only made you check it twice."

"Three times, usually."

"Then you've remembered the most important lesson."

He laughed, and for a brief moment, the building felt familiar again.

Claire arrived before they could continue talking. She greeted Nadia politely and explained that two boxes had already been prepared upstairs.

Ben wished her well and headed toward the elevators.

Nadia watched him go.

Leaving Whitlock hadn't erased the people she'd cared about or the years of work she'd done there. She was glad of that, even if returning was more difficult than she'd anticipated.

Claire led her to the executive floor.

Several things had changed.

The waiting area had been rearranged, and the wall displaying photographs of Whitlock's senior leadership had been updated. Nadia's portrait was gone. A framed photograph of Lydia Fenwick appeared near Adrian's, accompanied by her title as senior vice president of corporate development.

Nadia glanced at the display and continued walking.

Claire noticed.

"We updated the photographs last month."

"They look nice."

The administrator seemed relieved that Nadia hadn't said anything else.

They passed the conference room where Nadia had spent countless evenings reviewing financial forecasts. Through its glass walls, she could see a group of employees preparing for a presentation.

A woman from procurement raised her hand in greeting.

Nadia smiled back.

Then Claire stopped outside the office at the end of the corridor.

Nadia knew the door before she saw the new nameplate.

She'd chosen that office years earlier because its windows overlooked the river. On difficult afternoons, she used to stand beside the glass and watch the ferries cross the water while gathering her thoughts before another meeting.

The nameplate now read Lydia Fenwick.

Claire knocked.

"Come in," a woman called.

Lydia sat behind the desk Nadia had used for years.

She wore a fitted navy dress, her hair arranged in a neat twist, and a tablet lay open beside her laptop. Nadia recognized the brass desk lamp near the window, although nearly everything else had changed.

Her books were gone. So was the small photograph of her parents that had stood beside the computer.

Lydia looked up.

"Nadia. You're early."

"By a few minutes."

"That's like you."

The remark sounded almost affectionate. Nadia wondered whether Lydia intended it that way.

Claire stepped forward.

"I've prepared the two boxes from the storage cabinet. They're in the adjoining room."

"Thank you," Nadia said.

Lydia rose.

"I thought you might prefer to collect everything yourself. I wasn't sure what you'd want to keep."

"I appreciate that."

For a moment, the two women faced each other across the desk.

Nadia had imagined this encounter during the previous evening, although she'd tried not to. She'd wondered whether Lydia would apologize, behave defensively, or attempt the sort of conversation that should have happened months earlier.

Instead, Lydia gestured toward a chair.

"Would you like to sit down?"

"No, thank you. I won't take long."

"Adrian said you might want to discuss a few outstanding matters."

Nadia adjusted the strap of her handbag.

"Anything concerning my former work can go through the appropriate departments. I'm here for my belongings."

Lydia's expression became more guarded.

"Of course."

Claire indicated the adjoining room, and Nadia followed her.

She didn't look back at the desk.

The boxes contained more of Nadia's life than she expected.

There were framed certificates, several books she'd purchased herself, a cardigan she'd kept for cold mornings, and the ceramic pen holder Ben had given her after completing his first major project.

Claire handed her an inventory sheet.

"We separated the personal items from company records. Could you check that everything listed belongs to you?"

Nadia examined the contents carefully. She had no intention of leaving with confidential documents or anything that could create questions about her former access.

At the bottom of the second box, she found her blue notebook.

Its cover was worn at the corners, and an old coffee stain marked the back. She'd used it for everything from personal reminders to notes about meetings she wanted to revisit.

She opened it briefly.

A grocery list appeared beside a reminder to call her father. Farther down was a note about arranging additional training for the junior analysts.

Ordinary things from a life that no longer existed in quite the same form.

"Is everything there?" Claire asked.

"Almost. I had a small photograph of my parents on the desk."

Claire checked the inventory.

"That wasn't in the storage cabinet. Let me ask Lydia."

Before Nadia could object, Claire returned to the office.

Lydia appeared a moment later carrying a silver picture frame.

"I kept this in the desk drawer," she said. "I wasn't sure whether the staff had already packed it."

Nadia accepted it.

Her parents were smiling in the photograph, standing outside their home on the day her father retired.

"Thank you."

Lydia remained near the doorway.

"I know this must be uncomfortable."

Nadia looked at her.

There were several responses she could have given. She could have asked whether Lydia had considered that before becoming involved with Adrian. She could have demanded an explanation for the ease with which another woman had settled into a space Nadia had occupied for years.

But neither conversation belonged in a workplace corridor, with Claire standing a few feet away.

"It's a little strange," Nadia answered. "But I'm only here to finish collecting my things."

Lydia's fingers tightened around her tablet.

"I wasn't trying to take everything from you."

Nadia studied her for a moment.

"I haven't said you were."

"People have been talking."

"People usually do."

Lydia looked as though she wanted to say more, but Nadia turned toward Claire.

"Everything is accounted for. Thank you for preparing it."

Claire offered to have someone carry the boxes downstairs.

"That would be helpful."

They completed the inventory and left the adjoining room together. Nadia passed the office one last time.

Lydia had already returned to her desk.

Through the open doorway, Nadia saw her speaking into a headset while examining figures on her monitor. She looked busy and entirely at home.

Nadia remembered the countless mornings she'd sat in that same chair, arriving before everyone else and leaving after the building had grown quiet.

She had loved much of the work she'd done there.

That didn't mean she needed the room back.

At reception, Nadia surrendered her visitor badge.

Denise wished her well, and the security attendant helped carry the boxes to her car.

By ten thirty-eight, the visit was over.

Nadia settled behind the steering wheel but didn't immediately start the engine.

She had prepared herself for anger, perhaps even a confrontation. Instead, the morning had left her with a quieter sadness.

She'd walked through familiar corridors and discovered that the business continued without her. People were attending meetings, answering calls and making decisions. The office she'd once occupied already reflected someone else's preferences.

She didn't wish the employees ill. She'd helped many of them build careers and hoped they would succeed.

What troubled her was how quickly she had become accustomed to measuring her own importance by how much Whitlock needed her.

Nadia glanced at the boxes on the passenger seat.

There were things she would miss.

There were also things she had no desire to reclaim.

Her phone vibrated with a message from Claire confirming that the collection was complete.

Nadia thanked her and placed the phone aside.

As she reached for her seat belt, she noticed the blue notebook resting on top of the second box. A folded page protruded from its middle.

She remembered using it to prepare questions for a meeting with Adrian about changes to the executive team's responsibilities.

At the time, she'd been distracted by the growing difficulties in their marriage and hadn't returned to every question she'd written down.

She tucked the page back into the notebook.

She could examine it properly at home, alongside the professional correspondence she'd legitimately retained.

For now, she had somewhere else to be.

Nadia started the engine and drove away from Whitlock Industries.

The office was no longer hers.

But the experience, judgment and years of work she'd brought into it had never belonged to the room.